The Yellow House Part 18

"I must thank Mrs. Fortress for them, then! Very well; I will go down and see her to-morrow."

"I don't think," he said, with a slight twinkle in his eyes, "that you need go down specially. Mrs. Fortress only answered my question when I asked her if she thought that you would care for them."

"Oh, is that all?" I remarked.

"Entirely," he answered. "At the same time, if you have any time to spare I daresay Mrs. Fortress would be glad to see you if you went down."

"Do you think she would, really?" I asked. "You know the first time I was there, something a little unpleasant happened in connection with my father. I took a great fancy to her, and I would like to go and see her again, but I am not sure whether she wants me. I fancy she was very surprised at my visit the other night."

"I am perfectly certain," he declared, confidently, "that she would be glad to see you any time you chose to go to her. You may take my word for that."

"I think I will go to-morrow, then," I said. "Mrs. Fortress interests me very much. There is no one else round here like her."

"You are very friendly with my G.o.dmamma, are you not?" he said, with a faint smile at the corners of his lips.

"Lady Naselton has been very kind to me," I answered.

"I am afraid she gives me a dreadful character, doesn't she?" he asked.

"If she does you probably deserve it," I said, severely. "I fancy that I have heard her say that you are exceedingly s.h.i.+ftless and very lazy. You could scarcely deny that, could you?"

"Well, I don't know," he answered. "I have walked twenty or thirty miles to-day. That doesn't sound particularly lazy, does it?"

"On sport or business?" I inquired.

He laughed, and looked down at himself. His clothes were splashed with mud, and a bramble had torn his coat in a fresh place.

"I maintain that it is immaterial," he declared. "I've been out all day, and I haven't sat down for more than an hour. Therefore I deny the laziness _in toto_."

"At any rate," I continued, "there is another charge against you, which you certainly can't deny."

"And that is?"

"Untidiness! We used to have a woman call upon us at Belchester to buy our old clothes. If ever she comes here I shall certainly send her up to Deville Court."

He laughed gruffly.

"I wish you would; I'd sell her the whole lot. Anything else?"

"The other things," I said, "were too bad to repeat. I have only been enumerating your minor faults."

He made me an ironical bow.

"I am exceedingly obliged to my G.o.dmother," he said. "Some day I shall do myself the pleasure of paying her a visit and suggesting that she should mind her own business."

"Your business is her business to the extent of her G.o.dmotherhood," I reminded him, suavely.

"Hang her G.o.dmotherhood!" he uttered under his breath. I think it was "hang" he said--I was not sure about the expletive.

"I shall go away," I said. "You are getting profane. You are still as rude as when I bound your dog's leg for you, I see."

He was suddenly grave.

"That seems a long time ago," he remarked.

"A week or two only," I reminded him. "It seems longer, because of all that has happened. That reminds me, Mr. Deville. I wanted to speak to you--about--that Sunday--the murder!"

He shook his head, and whistled to his dogs.

"Can't talk about it," he declared. "You ought not to want to."

"And why not?" I demanded.

"You are not well enough. I don't wonder that you've been ill. You must have been within a few yards of the fellow all the time. Certainly you must not talk about it. Good evening."

"But there is something I want to ask you," I continued.

He shook his head. He was already moving away. I called him back.

"Mr. Deville! One moment, please."

He paused and looked over his shoulder.

"Well!"

"I want to ask you just one thing about that man."

I was talking to empty s.p.a.ce. Bruce Deville was already almost out of sight, striding along across the short turf, with his broad back turned to me. Soon he had vanished amongst the shadows. There was nothing for me to do but to return to the house.

CHAPTER XIV

ADELAIDE FORTRESS'S GUEST

My father did not appear at breakfast time the next morning, and Alice, who took him up some tea, came down in some concern.

"Father is not getting up until this afternoon, at any rate," she announced. "He is very unwell. I wish he would let us send for a doctor. He has looked so dreadfully ill since he came back from London."

Under the circ.u.mstances I was perhaps less alarmed than I might have otherwise been. It was clear to me that he did not wish to see the girl who had called upon me yesterday. I was strongly inclined to look upon his present indisposition as somewhat exaggerated with a view to escaping a meeting with her. But I was soon to be undeceived. I went up to him after breakfast, and, gaining no answer to my knock at the door, I entered softly. He was lying quite still upon the bed, partially dressed, and at first I thought that he was asleep. I moved to his side on tiptoe, and a sudden shock of fear drove the color from my face, and set my heart beating wildly. His eyes were closed, his cheeks were pale as death. Upon his side, underneath his waistcoat, was a linen bandage, half soaked with blood. Evidently he had fainted in the act of fastening it.

I got some brandy and forced it between his lips, chafed his hands, and gradually the life seemed to return to him. He opened his eyes and looked at me.

"Don't move!" I whispered. "I will see to the bandage."

He lay quite still, groaning every now and then until I had finished. Then I drew the counterpane over him and waited for a moment or two. He opened his eyes and looked at me.